DICTIONARY OF
PHILOSOPHY AND PSYCHOLOGY

JAMES MARK BALDWIN (1901)

Definition - Oriental Philosophy

Posted January 2002

Oriental Philosophy (and Religion).
The group of religions treated in the following article includes those
of Egypt, Babylonio-Assyria, Persia, India, China (in geographical enumeration
from west to east).

Among these nations India alone can be said to have produced schools
of philosophy analogous to those of Greece, though the ethical teachers
of China have good claims to rank with the thinkers of Europe. In the religions
of Egypt, Babylonio-Assyria, and Persia, the philosophical element does
not reach self-conscious expression, it remains entangled in mythology.
But all religions really involve a primitive philosophy. They attempt to
give some kind of rational explanation of the world of objects and of life
by which they are confronted. This is obviously the case even in the animistic
stage, and it is no less so with the more elaborate systems which have
emerged out of that rank, and acquired more or less consistency of higher
thought. Only this aspect is here sketched. Questions of ritual and hierarchical
organization are only touched where they involve the form and significance
of belief.[1]

I. Egypt. The wisdom of Egypt was famous in ancient Israel, and
the Greeks again and again expressed their indebtedness to it. Thales,
Pythagoras, and Plato were said to have studied there. Aristotle regarded
it as the home of mathematical lore. The author of the treatise on 'Isis
and Osiris,' reckoned among the works of Plutarch, indicates the interest
which the eclectic philosophers of the Roman Empire still felt in its venerable
symbols.

Since Young and Champollion discovered the clue to the hieroglyphics,
an immense wealth of material has been derived from the inscriptions of
temple and tomb; yet the problem of the real character of ancient Egyptian
religion remains exceedingly obscure. Putting aside the difficult questions
of the origins of the Egyptian race and culture, it may be said that the
earliest texts present already the chief forms of its pantheon. Even at
the outset it exhibits a quasi-monotheism (for explanations of this phenomenon
see below). In spite of the conservatism of its priesthoods, its history
shows occasional vicissitudes, as one centre after another acquires prominence
or sinks into decline. Some features in the cultus, such as the numerous
forms of animal worship, the prodigious number of gods of particular functions
(e.g. child-birth, child-naming, child-nurture, the ripening of the corn,
&c.), and the constant use of magic, connect Egyptian religion with
Animism. Of a higher order are the elemental gods, the earth and sky, and
sun and stars, the Nile. On this side, the number of the gods was perpetually
being increased by the amalgamation of local cults, and the occasional
incorporation of foreign deities, for polytheism can always tolerantly
accommodate new comers. In this view contradictions and inconsistencies
may be explained as due to prior diversities of race (Petrie). On the other
hand, from the earliest times, another tendency towards henotheism, or
even monotheism, may be traced with equal clearness. The chief question
for philosophy concerns the value of this tendency; and different answers
are given by different investigators.

The word 'god' occurs both in the sing. neter (or nuter),
and in the pl. neturu (or nuteru). De Rougé and Pierret
associated it with the idea of continuous renewal, so that God is 'the
imperishable' (Tiele); Renouf finds in it the notion of power; Brugsch
unites both, affirming it to mean 'the active energy which produces and
creates in regular recurrence, imparts new life to things, and restores
their youthful vigour.' But Maspero believes the word to be so old that
its original sense cannot be determined, Renouf's meaning 'the mighty'
being derived and not original (if it ever existed). The early phrases
in which the singular occurs are such as these: 'Thou existest at the side
of God,' 'he weigheth words, and behold God hearkeneth unto the words,'
'Not known are the things which God will do,' 'What is loved of God is
obedience, disobedience God hateth' (cf. others still more striking, given
without date, Brugsch, Mythologie, 96-9). But against these may
be set other phrases which one deity after another is called 'The one and
only God'; such is Tumu at Heliopolis, or Anhûri-Shû at Thinis.
The clue to this latter conception is to be found in the local cults prevailing
in different territorial divisions. Different cycles of myth gathered round
them, and one or another rose into solitary pre-eminence before the eyes
of his worshippers, like Ptah at Memphis, Ra at Heliopolis, &c. Sometimes
several divine forms were united, as though to express the unifying tendency.
At Heliopolis, Ra (the sun-god) was viewed theologically as Tumu, and Tumu
was placed at the head of the great cosmogonic scheme which conceived the
universe as produced with the help of four pairs of gods and goddesses
mysteriously derived from him. Tum-Ra was thus 'the only god,' who had
created himself and formed his own name, who could sáy, 'I am yesterday,
I know to-morrow' (Book of the Dead, xvii). This arrangement was
known as an 'Ennead' (pat
ntr),
and was widely copied elsewhere. Even tendencies towards monotheism thus
had always a background of mythology. Once only was it attempted to make
the state-religion monotheistic, when (about 1450 B.C.) Khu-en-Aten (Amenophis
IV) endeavoured to establish the exclusive worship of the solar disk Aten-Ra
as the supreme symbol of deity, and even tried to eliminate from the inscriptions
the names of his rivals (see the splendid hymn translated by Wiedemann,
Religion
of the Ancient Egyptians, 1897, 40). But this effort to select one
of the old nature-gods for a kind of transfiguration was soon undone. The
brilliant triumphs of the Theban monarchy gave prominence to the majestic
form of Amun-Ra, round whom gather some of the noblest of the quasi-monotheistic
hymns. Yet he, too, passed, though he could still serve in the time of
Darius as the centre of unity. In a hymn of this date on the temple of
El-Kargeh in the great oasis he is identified with heaven and earth, with
fire, water, and air. He is the giver of life and increaser of all things.
Shu, Tefnu, Mut, and Khons are his forms: 'each god has assumed thy skin.'
Well may Birch, in translating the hymn (Trans.
Soc. Bibl.
Archaeol.,
v. 1877, 294), declare it to be 'the nearest approach to the monotheism
of one deity manifested by different types in the chief cities of Egypt.'

The cosmogonic speculations chiefly rest on the belief introduced to
the Greeks by Thales that the beginning of all things lay in the primaeval
waters (Nu or Nun). One set of myths represents earth and sky lying like
lovers within them. The story of their separation and the elevation of
the sky belongs to the same class of savage tales as that of the New Zealand
Rangi and Papa. Another group gathers round the widespread conception of
the world-egg. Various gods, such as Path the 'former,' Khnum the 'moulder,'
are invested in different cycles with creative functions. A further set
of myths embodies the ideas of the conflict of the powers of light and
darkness, first physical and then moral. The order of nature was mythologically
concentrated in two figures, Thoth and Mat.
Thoth was originally a moon-god, and hence came to be god of time. He is
son of Ra (the sun-god), but also 'the unborn,' 'the one God,' 'the alone
only One,' who creates by the word, or rather simply by voice. He is the
founder of the sciences connected with space and time (e.g. astronomy and
land measurement); he is also the god of letters and revelation, and the
guardian of law. Mat (from m,
to
stretch out) embodies the ideas of right, truth, justice, order. She is
the daughter of Ra, sister and consort of Thoth, 'lady of heaven,' 'queen
of the earth,' so that the universe is under her control. The gods are
said to exist by, or upon, her. She is even 'queen of all the gods and
goddesses,' so that order is more than 'heaven's first law,' it is itself
the very sovereign of the world. This idea must be combined with that of
perpetual renewal, of everlasting continuity through incessant change,
which seems the philosophical essence of Egyptian religion. 'I am that
which was, which is, and which will be,' ran the inscription in the name
of the great goddess of Sais, according to the De Iside, 9, 'and
my veil no mortal yet hath lifted.'

Egyptian psychology is of course at a crude stage. The doctrine of man
and his nature is chiefly comprised in the texts dealing with the dead,
especially the so-called Book of the Dead, a collection of chapters
of various ages, some embodying extremely ancient ideas, intended to guard
the deceased on his journey through the perils of the next world. The various
elements of a human being are enumerated by Budge (Papyrus of Ani,
1895, pp. 1viii-1xix) thus: (1) The physical body, khat. (2) The
spiritual body, shu: this
can ascend into heaven and dwell with the gods. (3) The heart, ab,
seat of life, and centre of good and evil thought. (4) The double, the
genius or eidwlon, the ka: this received
the funeral offerings and dwelt in the statue of the deceased in the tomb,
as the ka of a god inhabited the statue of the god. Petrie identifies
it further with 'the inner mental consciousness and powers of thought.'
(5) The soul or ba, represented as a human-headed hawk, which could
revisit the body and consume the funeral-meats, but also dwelt in heaven
and shared the life of the gods. (6) The shadow or shade, khaibit,
which again was free to move about. (7) The khu, 'shining' or translucent,
sometimes identified with 'intelligence,' or otherwise interpreted as 'spirit':
this also, like the shadow and the ka, belonged to gods as well
as men. (8) The sekhem, enumerated with the ka and the ba,
placed among the khu's, sometimes rendered 'power,' sometimes
'form.' (9) The name, ren, also believed to exist in heaven. The
conception of the destinies of the dead seems to have been largely moulded
on the analogy of the journey of the sun through the hours of the night,
along the valley of another Nile, whether in an underworld or a world alongside
of this to the north. The identification of the deceased with Osiris (whose
myth was united with that of Ra) takes places at an early period, first
in the person of the king, and then for all. And the whole process receives
a remarkable ethical development under the Theban monarchy of the 'New
Empire,' when the famous judgment-scene is added to the Book of the
Dead (chap. cxxv), and the soul is solemnly weighed in the 'hall of
Double Justice (Mat)' before the
throne of Osiris. The confessions then put into the mouth of the soul before
the Forty-two Assessors throw an important light on the moral notions of
ancient Egypt before the days of the Exodus.

II. Babylonio-Assyria. The study of the ancient civilization
of Mesopotamia has shown its immense significance for the culture of the
Mediterranean peoples. It touched Egypt, it spread through Canaan, it powerfully
influenced Israel. It contributed to the mythology and possibly to some
of the cults of Greece; and through the Greeks its primitive science --
for instance, the signs of the zodiac -- passed into Europe. It supplied
much of the demonology of Judaism, and it is possible that some of its
cosmic conceptions may have left their traces in Gnosticism. But it can
hardly be ranked with Egypt as a mother of philosophies.

When the Babylonian religion comes into view in the fourth millennium
B.C., numerous centres of government and of worship have been established
in North and South Babylonia, and various elements of nationality have
been already combined. The relation of the Semitic immigrant peoples to
the previous occupants of the country is still obscure, and the chronological
problems arising out of the attempts to determine the successions of kings
are differently settled by different investigators. Concerning Sargon and
Naram Sin of Agane, about 3800 B.C., there is general agreement; but whether
the priest-kings of Lagash, among whom Gudea figures, preceded or followed
Sargon is still under debate. The religion of this age is already developed,
and shows traces of the beginnings of organization. But it has not passed
beyond the character of polytheistic nature-religion. The deities are revealed
in the elemental forces: the moon, the sun, the stars, the courses of the
seasons, the three great divisions of the universe -- the sky, the earth,
and the primaeval waters which surround and bear it up -- these are the
chief objects of interest, the embodiments of divine powers. At the bottom
are magic and witchcraft, an immense multitude of spirits, evil and good.
Babylonic-Assyrian religion does not descend as low as Egyptian animal
worship; on the other hand, its doctrine of man and his destiny remains
much nearer the animistic level, the condition of the wandering double
(ekimmu) on earth resembling that of the usual disembodied ghost,
and the gloomy underworld having no proper ethical character. Such philosophical
interest as Mesopotamian religion presents seems rather to lie in its occasional
efforts to rise above the fundamental polydaemonism and the polytheism
superposed upon it. The term for a god, il-u, is identical with
the widespread Semitic name which appears in Hebrew as l,
but its derivation is still matter of discussion. A regular feminine was
formed, which does not occur in Hebrew, and similarly an abstract ilt-u,
god-head or divinity, with which may be compared
ant-u, a corresponding
abstract from the name Anu, the sky-god (Jeremias).

Anu appears already in the inscriptions of Gudea, forming the first
member of a supreme triad. He represents the expanse of heaven. Beside
him stand Bel, lord of the earth and its forces, and Ea, god of the ocean-deep,
which encompasses the earth and lies beneath it. Theological arrangement
here begins to be apparent. But though Anu is the supreme lord of all,
and the father of the gods, who must obey his commands, he himself takes
no leading part, and in the cosmogony mentioned below he is removed by
several stages from the actual origin of the world of the gods. Another
triad comprised the moon-god Sin, who could even be identified with Anu,
the sun-god Shamash, and Ishtar (Venus) or Ramman ('the thunderer'), god
of rain and storm. But under Hammurabi (about 2250 B.C.) Babylon rises
into political pre-eminence, and its local deity Marduk, already named
in early texts, with the function of god of the spring-sun, is consequently
elevated to the loftiest place. Day by day he rises out of the ocean, and
so is the son of Ea, and he brings to light the hidden wisdom which lay
in the mysteries of the deep. Year by year he wakens the dead to life,
and in his character of 'the merciful' he heals the sick, sets free the
prisoner, and protects the weak. Not only is he first-born and leader of
the gods, he is lord of lords, ruler of the world, whose will heaven and
earth obey. Accordingly, in one of the great cosmogonic myths, he is the
creator; and he is even called 'god of gods' (Sayce, Hibbert Lectures,
501). Not even the rise of Assyria into empire (about 1400 B.C.), and the
advent of its great god Ashur to power, overthrew his influence, for the
monarchs of Nineveh sometimes made pilgrimage to Babylon. Ashur, indeed,
was regarded by the theologians on the Tigris as lord of the world and
maker of the earth. He typifies the political unity of the empire over
which he presides. The other gods are little more than members of his court,
the land bears his name, and the king's enemies are his foes. He is king
of all gods, even 'father' who has created them (Sayce, Hibbert Lectures,
128). Most striking of all, he is self-existent, for he is 'the creator
of himself.' But with the fall of Nineveh in 608 B.C. Ashur passes, and
Marduk reappears in supremacy, so that Bel, Sin, Ramman, &c., even
sometimes find their functions transferred to him. Marduk almost, if not
quite, reaches the elevation of Amun-Ra in Egypt; but the Babylonian thinkers
never formulated the Egyptian conception of continuity through change and
renewal.

The early cosmogonic speculations were finally embodied in a 'creation
epic,' which opens a series of poems in honour of Marduk. Before heaven
and earth were named, when no god yet lived, there were only the heaving
waters of the deep. The deep is personified as Tiâmat (equivalent
to T'hôm, Gen. i. 2), primaeval mother of heaven and earth. By a
kind of evolutionary process the first pair of gods, Lakhmu and Lakhamu,
are 'built' out of the chaos, and from them after many days two more, Anshar
and Kishar, the male and female principles of heaven and earth. Then follow
Anu, Bel, and Ea, and in due course Ea's son Marduk. Tiâmat dreads
the growing power of the gods, and prepares for a great struggle by producing
a brood of monsters to defend her. The elder gods are powerless for the
conflict; Anu and Ea fail; but Marduk, installed as king, advances armed
with the weapons of the storm, and attended by seven fatal winds. Tiâmat
is caught in his net and slain; Marduk splits her gigantic carcase into
two parts like a flattened fish, and one half is made into a covering for
the heavens to hold back the waters. The earth is then constructed as a
hollow hemisphere beneath the upper vault, spanning the great deep; the
districts of the mighty Three -- Anu, Bel, Ea -- are marked out, and the
courses of the heavenly bodies are fixed. The tablet describing the origin
of the human race has not been preserved, but at the close of the series
the children of men are enjoined not to forget Marduk, 'who created mankind
out of kindness towards them, the merciful one with whom is the power of
giving life.'

As might be expected with a people so observant of the heavens, the
cosmologic speculations are pervaded by a strong sense of law and order,
connected in particular with Sin (the moon-god) and Shamash (the sun),
the latter especially being ethicized as 'the judge of the land, and the
arbiter of its laws.' The Babylonian pantheon does not present any exact
equivalent to the Egyptian Mat,
but the Thoth of the Nile finds a counterpart in the Mesopotamian prophet-god
Nabu, 'proclaimer' or 'herald.' He is the impersonation of wisdom; son
of Marduk, in the later theological system, he is ilu tashmît-u,
'god of revelation (causing to hear).' So he is the god of inspiration,
and the source of science and literature. In this capacity Tashmît-um
(feminine abstract) becomes his consort. And in virtue of the sovereignty
of thought Nabu becomes for Nebuchadrezzar 'the upholder of the world,'
'the general overseer,' and his temple is 'the house of the sceptre of
the world,' It is the mythological expression of the first principle of
philosophy.

Literature: a very careful bibliography will be found in JASTROW'S
Religion of Babylonia and Assyria (Boston, 1898).

III. Persia. Neither the Egyptian nor the Babylonian religion
has any present representatives. But the followers of Zoroaster, known
as Parsees in Western India, still preserve the sacred books in which the
ancient teaching is embodied. First brought to light by the adventurous
French scholar Anquetil du Perron (1761), they have been supplemented by
the study of additional literature in the same religious succession, and
a large amount of material is now available. The sacred books are now known
by the name of Zend Avesta. The term Avesta, which cannot be traced
back further than the Sassanian kings (beginning 226 A.D.), denotes the
sacred text, Zend being the commentary or explanation. The books so designated
form no proper whole; they are the remains of a much larger literature.
Their contents are various, liturgies and laws being mingled together.
They are divided into three groups: (1) Yasna (Sansk. yajna,
sacrifice), the principal liturgical book, in 72 chapters, used by the
priests at sacrificial ceremonies in honour of various deities; (2) Vispered
(Vispe
Ratavo, 'all the chiefs'), in 24 chapters, based on the
Yasna,
and containing invocations to the spiritual heads; (3) Vendidad
(Vi-daeva-data,
'law for the enemies of the daevas or evil spirits'), in 22 chapters, a
priestly code of purifications and ecclesiastical penance.

The age of this collection is a problem of extreme obscurity. In its
present form it is only the survival of a much more extensive mass, probably
gathered together under the Sassanian kings, especially Shapur II, about
325 A.D. Much ancient literature was then believed to have perished, tradition
attributing the destruction to Alexander the Great. The oldest portion
is found in the five Gths,
discourses of revelation and exhortation in metrical style and archaic
language, now arranged in Yasma, xxviii-1iii. The evidence of date
is scanty and uncertain. Considerations of political circumstances, and
comparison with the usage of the cuneiform inscriptions of the Achaemenian
kings at Persepolis, Behistun, &c., especially in the treatment of
the divine name Ahura Mazda, lead to the view that the materials of the
younger part of the Avesta can hardly be later than 800 B.C., and the Gths
may be two centuries earlier (Tiele). Haug placed the Gths
about 1200 B.C. Mills possibly as early as 1500, or 1200-900. On the other
hand, de Harlez is in favour of a date from 500 B.C. onwards; and Darmesteter
(whose views have found no support) finally supposed them to be dependent
on Gnosticism and the Philonic Platonism in the middle of the 1st century
of our era. The antiquity of much of their doctrine is attested by the
Greek writers, notably Theopompus in the 4th century B.C. Further materials
are found in the Bundahish, a work of the Sassanian period, which
repeatedly quotes older texts, and other Pehlevi literature of still later
date.

The Avestan language and its mythological and ritual terminology at
once disclose their relation to those of the Vedic Hymns. A number
of equations can be immediately established, such as ahura and asura,
daeva
and deva, haoma and soma, Yima and
Yama,
Mithra
and
Mitra,
Vayu
and Vyu,
Aramaiti
and Aramati. The objects of Avestan homage are designated the yazatas
or 'worshipful ones' (Sansk. yajata); and behind the 'Lord all-wise'
of the Zarathustrian teaching, with his associated 'immortals,' are the
sun, moon, and stars, the fire and the waters, and other elemental powers,
connecting the ancient religion with the early nature-cult of the eastern
Aryans. And this in its turn sprang out of a still more ancient polydaemonism,
survivals of which may be found in the crowds of good and evil spirits.
Among the protectors of the living are the patron-spirits of the dead,
the Fravashis, a conception which is generalized and extended from the
house to the village, the district, and the province, and affects even
the unborn. Originally analogous to the Vedic 'fathers,' the term comes
to include the genius or ideal type of a whole nation, and can be applied
also to 'the Lord' himself. Other factors sprang from the nomadic life
of the ancient people, the cow and the dog having a special place in mythology
and sacred law. And yet others seem to have been derived from foreign contact,
like Anhita, a goddess later associated
with Mithra, but now recognized as of Semitic origin.

It is upon this field that Zoroaster (Zara thustra) appears. The Gthic
hymns represent a period of religious conflict. The people are divided
between two hostile cults. 'Hard by the believer in Ahura,' complains the
prophet, 'dwells the worshipper of the daevas.' The first are cattle-breeders,
to whom the care of the cow is a sacred duty; the second maltreat it, and
slaughter it in their sacrifices. Zoroaster is in the thick of the struggle.
He is a zaot(Vedic hot)
or priest; he is manthran (cf. Vedic mantrin), endowed with
the holy word; he is dta (Sansk.
dta),
'sent,' a messanger or apostle. The scene is in North-east Iran, in the
district known as Atropatênê (modern Azerbijan), between the
S. Caspian and Lake Urumiah: his family name is said to have been Spitama:
he has a wife and sons and daughters. Later legends embellish his career,
but (save for his colloquies with Ahura) the oldest texts contain no wonders.
His historic personality has, however, been questioned (Tiele, Kern, Darmesteter),
yet it is plain that the movement of reform indicated in the Gths
(assuming their antiquity) must have had some leaders. Such guidance seems
sufficiently supplied by Zoroaster; and though all detail is uncertain,
some dominant mind is required to explain the new thought; only some personal
energy -- even with a priestly circle to support it -- could have communicated
the original impulse. Jackson, following Pehlevi tradition, thinks it safe
to date his birth in 660 B.C., and his death in 583 B.C., at 77 years of
age. This hardly seems to give time for the linguistic changes already
obvious in the inscriptions of Darius; and even if the Greek date (Xanthus
the Lydian, about 450 B.C., puts Zoroaster 6000 years before Xerxes) be
explained by assuming that the statement refers to the formation of the
spiritual body of Zoroaster (as described in the Bundahish many
centuries later), the philological argument drawn from the general character
of the language remains untouched. West therefore (S. B.
E.
x1vii. Introd. § 78) concludes that 'at present we have no really
historical information about the origin of Zoroastrianism, and must still
consider it as decidedly prehistoric.'

The supreme figure in Zoroastrianism is that of Ahura Mazda, 'lord all-wise.'
Knowledge, holiness, beneficence, creative power, sovereign sway, and sustaining
energy are all united in him (see the two lists of his titles in Hasht,
i, S. B. E., xxiii. 24-8). He is 'bright' and 'glorious,'
but no form is ever ascribed to him. He is addressed as Mainyu Spenista,
'most bountiful spirit[2],' and he is 'maker of the material
world.' He is revealed in light; he puts on the sky as a garment (Yasna,
xxx. 5, i. 1; Yasht, xiii. 3), and the stars are poetically described
as his 'body' (Yasma, xxxvi. 6). But Hereodotus observed that the
Persian worship was conducted without temples or images, 'because they
do not think that the gods have human forms as the Greeks do.' Associated
with him are six (or seven) 'immortal holy ones' (Amesha-Spentas):
Vohu
Manah, 'good thought'; Asha Vahista, 'most excellent righteousness';
Khsthathra
vairya, the kingdom of the divine will';
Spenta Armaiti, 'holy
piety'; and the sacred pair Haurvetat and
Ameretat, 'health'
or 'perfection' and 'immortality.' With these Ahura seems sometimes himself
to be reckoned; but the number seven is otherwise completed by
Sraosha
(lit. 'hearing'), the angel of Obedience. These ideal powers play a great
part in Zoroastrianism. Such as Daena, impersonation of sacred law, who
belongs to the heavenly creation, produced with the light; and Manthra
Spenta, the Holy Word, applied to the revelation issuing from Ahura's mouth.
And such in another connection were the ratus, the types or ideas
of all classes of beings or objects, ranged in hierarchic order, like the
grades of imperial administration, the highest being identified with the
Amesha-Spentas. Among these Vohu Manah and Asha Vahista form
with Auhura an inner group of three. The first closely resembles Spenta
Mainyu, which is sometimes identified with Ahura, and sometimes regarded
as a kind of emanation from him, or again as something possessed by him.
The second is philologically equivalent with the Vedic Rita (see
below, India), and expresses the idea of order in the universe as
the foundation of righteousness. Mythologically, Asha is conceived by Ahura
for the worlds; or, again, Ahura is the creator of Asha 'when his all-glorious
conceptions clothed themselves in the stars'; and the Mazdayasnian confession
of faith declares its trust in Ahura, 'whose is Asha, whose are the stars,
in whose lights the glorious beings and objects are clothed.' Asha has
other functions, ritual and moral; the cosmic, the ceremonial, and the
personal being after all only different aspects of that order which, to
the ancient Iranian, was more than 'heaven's first law,' and could be identified
with deity himself, 'My name is Asha Vahista -- most excellent righteousness'
(Yasht, i. § 7).

Over against the realm of Asha, chosen by the Holy (or Bountiful) Spirit,
is the sphere of the 'Lie.' What is the relation of the opposing powers?
It is difficult to state it with precision, for the expression of it is
poetical, and not philosophic; and it is variously represented in the different
parts of the Avestan texts. In the Gths
it seems to have its root in the moral antithesis of good and evil as a
fact in human life. This is carried back indefinitely to a primaeval conflict,
when twin spirits strove for the better and the worse in thought, word,
and deed (Yasma, xxx. 3). As they met, they produced life and unlife[3],
determining how at last there should be for the wicked the worst state,
and for the righteous 'the best mind.' Then the wicked one chose the evil,
but the most bountiful Spirit chose Asha and 'righteousness.' The word
is thus the scene of continuous struggle between the most holy spirit (Mainyu
Spenista) or Ahura and the evil spirit (Anra Mainyu). As the
essential being of Ahura is truth, symbolized by light, so his counterpart
is pre-eminently 'the lie' (druj), and his kingdom is darkness.
In the Gths
this is altogether conceived in the moral and spiritual realm. Night, which
discloses the stars, is a part of the world's order; and accordingly the
prophet, preparing to sing Ahura's praise, asks: 'Who as a skilful artisan
hath made the lights and the darkness? Who made sleep and wakefulness?
Who spread the auroras, noontide and midnight, monitors to discerning men,
duty's true guides?' (Yasma, x1iv. 5). It was even Ahura who decreed
the penalities on the wicked, as the discerning arbiter who rewards and
punishes hereafter. But after a time the moral struggle was found to be
reflected in the universe. Disease and death, cold, drought, and hunger,
and physical suffering of all sorts, are the creation of Anra Mainyu, or
are produced by the daevas, over whom he rules. The Bundahish,
accordingly, following earlier authority (cp. Yasht, xiii. 77),
describes the mode in which the evil spirit endeavours to neutralize Ahura's
work. The dualism thus implied, however, is of a very qualified kind. Anra
Mainyu (who is never accounted for) is neither omniscient nor almighty.
He does not know of Ahura's existence till he arises from the abyss and
sees the light. And his doom is fixed; at the resurrection his creatures
will perish, and he himself also will be destroyed. Philosophy has not
been altogether content with these uncertainties, and has attempted in
some way to unify the opposing powers. Traces of two modes may here be
mentioned. Erroneous exegesis of Vend., xix. 9, suggested the view
that both Ahura and Anra Mainyu (Ahriman) were the joint offspring of a
higher being, Zarvan Akarana, 'boundless time.' Others, like the Gayomarthians,
maintained that Ahriman was in some sense a product of Ahura; and his origin
was ascribed to the suspicion which sprang up in Ahura's mind, 'Perhaps
an antagonist may arise to oppose me' (Dabistan, trans. Troyer,
i. 356).

The conflict between the two powers is not everlasting. It was a fundamental
postulate of religion that the good must triumph. This is embodied in the
Zoroastrian eschatology, which provides both for the individual and for
the world. For the human being (see two lists of his immaterial faculties,
Yasht,
xiii. 74 and 149) a judgment is provided immediately after death, with
an appropriate allotment to the heavens or hells of good and evil thought,
word, and deed. The duration of these awards was limited, but varying gradations
of intensity secured a complete moral equivalent for the guilt or merit
of the past. A regular chronology was gradually worked out, according to
which the world would come to an end after an existence of 12,000 years.
The great consummation, the frashokereti ('forwards-making,' the
renovation which would make the world go forwards), would begin. Inaugurated
by a general resurrection, the hour of victory over the druj would
arrive. The mountains would melt, and the barriers set by the hills would
disappear. A purified humanity would become immortal; the evil spirit would
be conquered and destroyed; the last recesses in which he had taken refuge
would be consumed, and hell would be brought back for the enlargement (or
prosperity) of the world. By this means the choice offered by the Supreme
Wisdom to the guardian spirits of men at the outset was justified. When
he was about to present them to the world he inquired whether they would
contend with the Lie-power, knowing that it would perish and they would
be given back to the world immortal, or whether they would be protected
against it from the outset. And they chose, as he chose for them, to be
made capable of warfare, to strive for everlasting life (Bund.,
ii. 10-1).

IV. India. Indian philosophy is organized historically under
the influence of Brahmanical orthodoxy in the so-called Six DarVanas
('views' or systems) named below. These, however, only hold the field after
the decline of Buddhism, and they represent the issue of long processes
of thought which began at an exceedingly early date. Their main problems
were metaphysical; ethical theory was always subordinated to practical
methods of moral culture; and political methods of moral culture; and political
conceptions did not exist. But speculation busied itself very early with
the fundamental ideas of ontology; and the varying phases of this activity,
the interest which it evoked, its influence on social life, and the protests
and reactions generated by it, form a most significant if also highly complicated
history. Special difficulties arise out of the vastness of the literary
product in which the history is contained, and the absence of any proper
chronology. The general succession of the strata of Vedic literature is
sufficiently well established, though no definite dates can be assigned.
Monumental evidence first becomes available in the reign of AVoka,
263-226 B.C. (Duff, Chronologyof India, 1899), whose inscriptions
(combined with other materials) make it possible to fix the rise of Buddhism
in the latter half of the 6th century B.C. The greater part of the canon
of the Three Pitakas belongs to the century and a half following the Buddha's
death, and may be ascribed to the period before 300 B.C. Very important
evidence for the different tendencies of contemporary thought is to be
found in the Buddhist texts, just as later works of other schools abound
in proofs of the independence and intensity which marked the pursuit of
philosophy in India for more than 2,000 years.

THE VEDAS. The beginnings of speculation are to be found already in
the hymns of the Rig-Veda. The background out of which they emerge
is that view of nature held by the peoples of the lower culture. The elemental
forces and objects are themselves divine agents -- earth and sky, fire
and wind, sun and storm -- but these have long been personalized, though
they have never acquired such marked theanthropic forms as in Greece; and
the mythologic process has never connected them so definitely with specific
sacred spots as to make their biographies possible from a nativity to a
tomb. The germs of philosophical thought may be seen (1) in the attempts
at classification of the gods; (2) in the prominence given to conceptions
of law and order; (3) in the various modes of relating the Many to the
One; and (4) in the different phases of cosmogonic speculation. Thus (1)
the determination of the number of the gods at thirty-three seems to reach
far back into Aryan antiquity, as it is found also in the Zend Avesta,
and may be possibly of still wider usage. But these are classed among three
zones -- the sky, the earth, and the intervening atmosphere (R.-V.,
i. 139, 11) -- though they are not always distributed by the Brahmanical
explanations quite in the same way. More important (2) is the emphasis
again and again laid on their law-abiding character. The uniformity of
nature early attracted attention, and is explained by the decrees or commands
(dharman, dhman,
vrata)
laid by the gods upon the flow of the rivers, or the movements of the stars;
while the ordered course of the world from day to day is mythologically
embodied in the Rita (the Zend asha), of which the gods are
the guardians alike in its physical and its moral aspects, an early synthesis
of the highest value reached by poetic intuition. The view of the world's
unity (3) implied in the conception of the Rita naturally produced
various attempts to get rid of the plurality of deities. They were syncretistically
united in pairs, Indra-Agni, Mitra-Varuna, &c.; they were generalized
as Viçve Devas, 'the gods together'; they were regarded as manifestations
of an ulterior reality, 'the One with many names' -- 'the sages call that
One in many ways' -- and as such they shared a common deity, mahad devnm
asuratvam ekam, 'the great asura-hood [Sansk. asura =
Zend ahura] of the gods is one' (or perhaps 'great is the asura-hood
of the gods, it is one'). This mysterious One is in turn identified with
various principles. Such is Aditi, the 'infinite,' who comprehends
all space and time, and who is all gods and men. Such is Prajpati,
'lord of creatures,' and other similar forms (cf. Skambha, 'support';
Prna,
'vital breath';
Kla, 'time,'
in the Atharva-Veda). Two terms especially emerge, destined to be
of high significance hereafter: (a) Brahman (cp. Deussen,
Gesch.
d.
Philos.,
i. 240-8; Max Müller, Six Systems, 68 ff.), conceived as the
supreme energy of the universe, comprising finite and infinite, past and
future, within it; and (b)
Atman, the breath or living principle,
and so the 'self'; sometimes applied to particular deities (Parjanya,
the fertilizing rain; Srya,
the sun; Vyu, the wind),
each as the 'self' of the gods, or dimly apprehended as the ultimate Brahman.
Lastly (4) cosmogonic speculation is busy with the origin of the universe.
It is attributed to Viçvakarman, 'maker of all things,' or
to Prajpati in the shape
of the 'Germ of golden light' (according to the addition in R.-
V.,
x. 121, 10), or to Purusha, the cosmic 'Man' whose sacrifice produces
the heavens and the earth and all that is therein. Most famous of all is
the effort of the seer (R.- V., x. 129) to carry thought
back to the primaeval darkness, when there was neither sat, 'what
is,' to on, nor asat, 'what is not,'
to
mh on, neither death nor deathlessness. Then 'that One' was born
by the power of heat, and through Kma
(hot desire, or love) was at last evolved the world we know.

EARLY BRAHMANISM. Many of the terms which the later schools will freely
use may thus be traced back to the speculations which found their way into
the Vedic canon ere the collections of the ancient hymns were complete.
In the ritual treatises known as the Brhmanas,
based upon the sacred texts, Prajpati
appears again and again as the emblem of unity, and various myths representing
different stages of speculative advance out of the lower culture describe
his creative functions. But the great contribution to thought made by the
age of early Brahmanism was concerned with the interpretation of human
life rather than divine. In the Vedic hymns the destiny of the dead is
depicted much on the lines of higher animistic expectations elsewhere.
The 'fathers' have passed into the realm of light in the sky; and though
the hereafter is not without traces of ethical discrimination, there is
no clear principle controlling the dispensations of the future, still less
the circumstances of to-day. But the Buddhist texts represent the theory
of transmigration as fully developed in the Brahmanical teaching, and as
under the strictest moral law. It must, therefore, have been elaborated
in the interval; but from what sources? The belief that the souls of the
dead pass into animals, and even trees or plants, recurs among many races,
and may have been adopted by the immigrant Aryans from the aboriginal peoples
(Gough, Rhys Davids, Garbe). Apart from the hostility shown to them and
their beliefs in the Vedic hymns, this hypothesis could at the utmost only
explain the first suggestion, for the hints of the ancient texts point
in a different direction. Already in R.-V. x. 129 there is
a contrast between the sphere of death's power and the region of the deathless.
Observation of the physical world suggested cycles of origin and decay;
the dawn was reborn daily, and this rebirth (punarbhava) was the
mythological statement of the maxim that whatever has a beginning in time
must also have an end. Connection with material form (however refined)
thus involved production and dissolution, where redeath (punarmrityu)
corresponded to rebirth. But what regulated these processes for any given
individual? There are indications that this problem was at first withheld
from open discussion, and was treated as a secret mystery. The answer was
finally reached along the line of the continuity of the product of a man's
life. This was the doctrine of the 'deed' (karman). Every deed was
regarded as producing something; it had a value and this value remained
even when the physical form of the agent and the external content of the
action disappeared. The value might be only ritual or ceremonial, but it
might also be moral. Accordingly it was laid down that 'the deed does not
perish' (karma na kshyate),
and still more explicitly 'a man is born into the world that he has made'
(Çatapatha Br., VI. ii. 2, 27). This is applied first to
the world of sacrifice, but it was soon extended to the whole world of
conduct, including that of thought and feeling, so that death conveyed
each person into a new environment of happiness or suffering suitable to
his case. Moreover, as the product of any life contains elements of various
value, each of these must in turn receive its appropriate requital, and
different heavens and hells arose in imagination to supply the moral demand.
As the individual passed from one to another, he was in fact laying up
fresh karma all the while; and as long as he remained traversing
this course of existences (samsra,
the vb. samsarati, to 'pass through' or 'traverse'), he was rigidly
encompassed by its inflexible self-operating law, but he had his destiny
in his own hands. Finally, this explanation was applied to the circumstances
of the present. Wealth and poverty, the vicissitudes of accident or disease,
peculiarities of outward lot or inward disposition, were all interpreted
as the product of the past. The existing distribution of comfort or pain,
the qualities of character for good or evil, were all the direct result
of previous action. The entire universe, therefore, from the topmost heaven
to the lowest hell, was under the sovereignty of this principle. In due
time the world of space and time would come to an end. But the potencies
of karma were indestructible, and after an interval a new age (kalpa)
would begin with a fresh order generated to give them their necessary field.
Thus the whole problem of suffering fell away. Each separate individual
-- god, man, animal, demon -- always and exactly got what he deserved.

But over against the sphere of phenomenal existence which was in death's
power, lay the realm of the deathless. How was this to be reached? Its
attainment was, in fact, the great object of philosophy. The majority of
men, indeed, did not seek it. But the evidence first of the Upanishads
and next of the Buddhist texts shows that in the middle Ganges valley in
the 7th and 6th centuries B.C. there was an immense amount of eager discussion
concerning it, both within and without the ranks of the Brahmanical caste.
The Brahman himself might retire after due performance of ceremonial duty
up to middle life, and tend the sacred fire in some forest retreat, or
he might adopt the style of a wandering ascetic. Many lay teachers, likewise,
followed the same quest. The Greek ambassador Megasthenes at the court
of Chandragupta (315 B.C.) reported that these ascetics discussed the constitution,
shape, and limits of the universe, the relation of the Deity to it, and
the nature and immortality of the soul. That summary corresponds sufficiently
well to the records of early philosophical inquiry in the Upanishads, and
to the reports of the Buddha's colloquies with his contemporaries. But
it misses one essential feature: the aim of the higher knowledge was to
escape from the phenomenal succession of existences into the realm of the
unborn and the uncompounded which was beyond the reach of death. The solution
which first established itself within the limits of Brahmanical orthodoxy
(afterwards embodied in the Vedânta, see below) was founded
on the two conceptions already named, the Atman and the Brahman. The doctrine
of the 'self' rests primarily on the older animism, but it is worked into
a kind of physiology and psychology on the human side, and is then employed
metaphysically on the cosmic side. Any given existence contains two sets
of elements: (1) those belonging to his particular corporeal being, which
cease at death, and (2) those belonging to his continuous existence in
the cycle of transmigration. Among the latter the most important are the
Prnas
or vital powers, potencies rooted in a kind of spiritual body which operates
through the corresponding members of the physical organism. In man these
belong (1) to the conscious and (2) to the automatic or unconscious life.
In the first group are five of knowledge (the senses) and five of action
(speech, hands, &c.), all being under the control of Manas (
= mens), a kind of 'common sensory,' which acts as a medium between
the higher intelligence (Buddhi) and the corporeal frame. The place
of the 'self' in this scheme is not clear. It is sometimes located in the
cavity of the heart; it is in size like a grain of barley or rice, or it
is as big as a thumb; its shape is that of a man; its aspect is that of
a yellow robe, smoke-coloured wool, a flame, a white lotus, light without
smoke, &c. Such was the 'self' to simple imagination (cf. T. W. Rhys
Davids, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Soc., 1899, 71). But it had
another character when its particular limitations were dropped. Behind
the world of sense lay the world of thought, which was not divided into
separate individuals, but was common to them all, and gave to the world
of external phenomena its true unity. The universe could not be apprehended
by a mere enumeration of its contents; that which constituted it as its
Self could only be reached through thought. This was present, therefore,
everywhere, alike without and within, in the cosmos and in the heart, incapable
of multiplication or of partition. A true view of life requires us to merge
our individuality in the universal Self. The distinction between subject
and object then disappears. The Self transcends both the knower and the
known. As it cannot be differenced from anything else, it is unconditioned,
and its only marks are 'no, no'; if it is represented in symbols, it is
infinite like space, but as it is without dimensions, it may equally well
be called a point. This lay behind all successional existence, and the
realization of union with it brought deliverance from the samsra.
In another aspect, however, the world had been already identified as a
manifestation of Brahman (masc. Brahm,
neut.
Brahma).
In the scene of visible things he constituted a sort of universal Prna,
including in one unity space, time, light, heat, sun, fire, the creative
word, &c. But the world known to sense was only a veil of the reality
within. Think all actual objects away; is Brahman thereby abolished? The
answer was, 'Assuredly not': he is 'the true of the true,' he is ekam
advityam, 'one without a second.'
So the cosmic unity was identified with the unity which lies at the root
of all self-consciousness, and the Brahman in the heart was the Self without
passions or parts, the light of lights. If a quasi-reality was admitted
in the world, during any given kalpa, the Brahman might be regarded
as the great Brahm, supreme, all-seeing,
Maker, Disposer, Father of all beings, and a provisional theism was recognized.
But if the unreality of individual existence was truly discerned, it followed
that the world was unreal, too: it owed its aspect for sense to our ignorance,
it was even the product of that ignorance (avidy);
and from this there was no deliverance save through the recognition of
the illusory character of corporeality, and the perception of the fundamental
identity of the Self with the ultimate Brahman. This was expressed in the
formula Tat tvam asi, 'that art thou.' Then the world of ritual
and Vedic study, even or ordinary moral relations, is left behind. Acts
producing merit cease. Freed from the bondage of desire, such a one 'stands
blessed in the Brahman, who longs for a true man.'

The eagerness with which the speculations concerning the 'self' were
pursued may be inferred from the conspectus of sixty-two wrong views about
it according to the Buddha (Dialogues, trans. T. W. Rhys Davids,
i. 27-52). Among these was the fourfold error of the 'Eternalists,' who
maintained that the soul and the world were eternal, in which the germ
of the Snkhya system (see
below) is probably to be detected. The antecedents of others of the six
Darçanas may also belong to the great formative age in Indian philosophy
from the 6th to the 3rd century B.C. But there is no record of their characteristic
terminology, still less can they show any literary product like the Upanishads,
some of which may be confidently ascribed to the pre-Buddhistic age (for
a tentative chronological arrangement see Regnaud, Matériaux,
i. 20). On the other hand, there were teachers daring enough to deny the
first principle on which the Brahmanical philosophies were all based, viz.
karma.
Such, among the Buddha's contemporaries, was the agnostic Sanjaya, who
repudiated all knowledge of the subject; the materialist Ajita of the hairy
garment, who allowed no other life, rejected the claim to knowledge by
higher insight, and resolved man into the four elements -- earth, water,
fire, air -- which dispersed at death; the indifferentist Purana Kassapa,
who acknowledged no moral distinctions, and consequently no merit or reward;
and the determinist Makkhali of the Cow-pen, who indeed recognized the
samsra,
but admitted no voluntary action, and hence no karma, each individual
only working out the law of its nature which it could not modify or control,
the sole cause of everything being found in niyati, destiny, impersonal
necessity or fate (Dialogues, trans. Rhys Davids, i. 69-75).

Jainism. Among the schools thus flourishing at the time of the
foundation of Buddhism a word must be said about the Jains, who still exist
as a religious community in India. They are the followers of the Jina,
or Conqueror, known otherwise as Mah-Vra,
the 'great hero,' whose career as teacher ended a little before that of
his better known and younger contemporary, the Buddha. Like the Buddha
he came to be regarded as the successor of others who had preceded him.
Accepting the theory of transmigration under the law of karma, he
taught a way of deliverance founded on perfect knowledge, faith, conduct,
and austerities. In the metaphysical discussions mentioned above, the jains
avoided definite answers by the doctrine formulated as syd-vda,
'it may be,' in opposition to Sanjaya's agnosticism (Jacobi). This method
permitted the affirmation or denial of the same thing from different points
of view, so that contrary qualities could be regarded as coexisting in
one single object. The right knowledge was that taught by the Jina, and
dealt first of all with six substances: Dharma, whose characteristic
was immobility (both co-extensive only with the world of visible objects),
space, time, matter, and souls; these are the astikyas
or 'realities.' Souls (which belong to plants as well as to animate beings,
and even to particles of earth, water, and fire) are eternal and self-subsistent;
but they are entangled (in a manner imperfectly explained) in the process
of transmigration, owing to actio and its consequent karma. Through
the recognition of the influence of karma in determining the soul's
destiny, the Jain doctrine is classed among the kriyvdas,
or systems which maintain that action has an effect on the soul. The quest
of deliverance, therefore, took the form of cessation from action, and
this in its turn led to extreme asceticism (one group, known as the 'airclad,'
discarded all clothing), and immense stress was consequently laid on self-control,
the exercise of will, and the maintenance of a state of moral tension.
In the details of Jain teaching, which was never very systematically organized,
there are affinities with the modes of thought afterwards developed in
the Snkhya and Vaiçeshika
philosophies: but its speculations are still somewhat confused and incoherent.
The Buddhist texts report various cases of discussion with eminent Jains,
and occasional conversions (contrast S. B. E., xvii.
108-115, with xxii. 65). For recent bibliography, see Jacobi in S.
B.
E.,
vol. xiii, p. xv.

Buddhism. Most important of all the protests against the Brahmanical
philosophy was the system of ethical culture founded by Gotama the Buddha,
known in the West as Buddhism. This term, however, covers a great variety
of beliefs, which may be roughly divided (for present purposes) into two
great groups: (1) early Buddhism, presented in the Pli
canon of the 'Three Baskets' (Ti-pitaka), preserved in Ceylon, Burma,
and Siam, characterized by complete rejection of all metaphysical conceptions,
and (2) advanced Buddhism, as exhibited in the Sanskrit Scriptures of Nepal,
and the colossal literatures founded upon them in China and Tibet, resulting
from the assimilation of transcendental ideas with the primitive teaching.
Historically, Buddhism takes its rise in the person of Gotama, son of a
chieftain of the Skya clan, who
adopted the life of a wandering ascetic at the age of twenty-nine, devoted
six years to the search for truth, was believed to have attained supreme
enlightenment (to have become a Buddha) at thirty-five, spent forty-five
years in teaching and superintending the Order or union of disciples instituted
for the promotion of the doctrine and the cultivation of the higher life,
and finally died at the age of eighty, his body being cremated, and the
relics distributed among the clans of the adjoining districts (B.C. 177,
Max Müller; 480, Oldenberg; born about 600, Rhys Davids). How much
of the theory of Buddhahood was elaborated in the Buddhist schools cannot
here be discussed. The texts represent Gotama as one of a series (seven,
or even twenty-four); and they further imply that an expectation was widespread
in the middle Ganges valley that Mah-purisa
(Sansk.
purusha),
'the great Man,' would appear, and would become either a universal monarch
ruling in righteousness, or a blessed Buddha lifting off from the world
the veils of ignorance and sin. This is the centre of the highly poetical
mythology of Buddhism, and a point of departure for its subsequent metaphysical
development.

The teaching of Gotama was necessarily closely related to the general
ideas of his age. Like the Brahmanical philosophy, it assumed the process
of transmigration and the doctrine of karma, and aimed at providing
a way of deliverance from liability of rebirth. Like the higher Brahmanism,
it recognized the gods of the popular religion within the limits of the
same process, but it boldly stripped the great Brahm
himself of his attribute of self-existence, and asserted that he, too,
would cease to be. For Gotama repudiated all metaphysical conceptions,
and again and again refused to enter on transcendental discussions (such
as whether the world was infinite and eternal, or limited in space and
time; see the 'Ten Indeterminates,' Dialogues, trans. Rhys Davids,
i, 187, 254). He would deal only with the world as he knew it, a world
which observation showed to be in a state of perpetual change, of growth,
decay, and dissolution. All sentient existence (and with this alone he
was concerned) was under this law. The first fact of conscious life, properly
understood in all its bearings, is Suffering, for even birth and the joy
and energy of youth lie in the shadow of old age and death. The Buddha
further knows its Origin, the mode of its Cessation, and the Path which
leads to that Cessation. These are the Four cardinal Truths, expounded
with extraordinary variety of illustration and clearness of moral insight,
and enforced by a personality of such nobility and attractiveness that
it could become for uncounted millions a permanent object of devotion.

The Origin of suffering is found in the delusion of individuality, and
is explained in an elaborate formula known as the 'Chain of Causation.'
Briefly, the whole is summed up in the doctrine that there is no 'self'
(an-atta [Pli attan
= Sansk. tman]), and
that the appearance of separateness is due to error and ignorance, which
beget the craving after the gratification of personal desire. The insistence
on the polemic against the Brahmanical doctrine of the 'self' shows the
immense importance which the Buddha attached to this central idea. It is
the subject of his first discourse after attaining Buddhahood, in which
his psychological theory is set forth. Any given individual is constituted
by the union of a number of elements, bodily and mental, known as the khandhas
or 'aggregates.' These fall into five groups (which are afterwards minutely
subdivided, though the classifications appear to cross and recross), viz.
(1) the attributes of bodily form, rpa;
(2) the sensations vedan;
(3) the perceptions, sann;
(4) the conformations, sankhra,
distributed among thought, word, and deed; (5) consciousness, vinnna.
With none of these can the self be identified; but as they are regarded
as producing any specific being by their union, the conclusion is that
there is no permanent self; at death the khandhas fall apart, and
the individual is no more. As long, however, as he is involved in the process
of transmigration, his karma remains, and, by a mystery known only
to the Buddha, produces a new being in an appropriate environment. This
new being is morally continuous with the preceding, though without memory
of its previous existence. The insight of supreme wisdom, however (as in
the case of Pythagoras), can detect the identity of character, and travel
back through life after life.

The way of deliverance, therefore, must lie in the attainment of that
condition in which the craving after individuality will be eradicated,
and the roots of the accumulation of karma cut off. This is the
realm in which there is no death, because there is no further rebirth;
it is the realm of the unborn, the uncompounded, which decay and dissolution
cannot harm. Among other epithets for it is the term nirvna
(Pli
nibbna),
not found in the pre-Buddhistic Upanishads, and possibly, therefore, a
new coinage. It denotes the 'going out' (like the flame of a lamp), and
it is applied (as Prof. Rhys Davids first showed) to the dying down or
'going out' of the three fires of lust, ill-will, and delusion or dullness.
This state of perfect holiness was only reached after long moral discipline,
on which Gotama laid the whole stress of his teaching. This discipline
was known as the 'Noble Eightfold Path' -- the practice of Right Views,
Right Aspiration, Right Speech, Right Conduct, Right Livelihood, Right
Effort, Right Mindfulness, Right Rapture or Meditation. Each of these terms
is only a summary of manifold energies of thought, feeling, and will, in
various combinations and applications. As the believer advances along the
Path, he gradually breaks through the Ten Fetters which detain him in the
bondage of transmigration, the 'delusion of being a self,' 'doubt,' 'belief
in the efficacy of good works and ceremonies,' 'sensuality,' 'ill-will,'
'love of life in material existence,' 'love of life in immaterial existence,'
'pride,' 'self-righteousness,' and 'ignorance.' Complete emancipation is
thus attained, and the Buddhist saint, or arahat, is reborn no more.

The theory of life thus sketched found its goal in the achievement of
perfect holiness. That holiness was indeed conceived first of all as requisite
for deliverance from transmigration. But it came to be regarded as an end
in itself, and the true Buddhist loved goodness for its own sake. By degrees,
however, the emphasis shifted. The arahat only saved himself, but
the Buddha offered salvation to the world. Partly under the influence of
the passionate missionary spirit which Gotama infused into his Order, the
moral ideal changed. An imaginary biography of the Buddha's antecedent
lives was constructed, and it became the duty of the disciple to emulate
the Teacher by aspiring after the same function. A being in preparation
for Buddhahood was known as a Bodhisattva. He did not attempt to cross
the ocean of existence in a boat that would hold one only; he chose a larger
vessel that would hold also men and devas. This was one source of the distinction
between the early Buddhism of the 'Little Vehicle,' and the developed Buddhism
of the 'Great Vehicle.' The literature of the latter school (which first
begins to make its appearance in the second century B.C.) presents the
Buddha as surrounded by vast multitudes of Bodhisattvas, numerous as 'the
sands of nine Ganges.' This change is accompanied by another more significant
still. One of the Brahmanical theories of the Mah-Purusha
(see above) identified him with the Absolute and the Eternal, and in the
new system, accordingly, Buddhism has made terms with metaphysics, and
transformed its founder from a man who could be born and die into the Self-Existent
and the Everlasting. The phenomenal appearance of the Buddha is then explained
as a semblance after the manner of early Christian Docetism, and the aim
of the believer is to become a partaker of the Buddha-nature (cf. 2 Pet.
i. 4).

This produced a great philosophical cleavage. The adherents of the 'Little
Vehicle' were (in the main) realists of the ordinary type, affirming the
existence of time, space, matter, &c., as we know them. Over against
this was developed the theory of the Void. In early Buddhism this term
was applied to the moral emptiness of the craving for wealth and other
forms of enjoyment. But it was made the basis of a philosophical scepticism
in which the phenomenal world and the whole inner series of sensations
and ideas (the skandhas, &c.) were in turn declared unreal.
Even the Buddha, the goal, and the path were all involved in this scholastic
nihilism, and everything was doubted or denied except the doubt and the
denial. This kind of advanced wisdom (Prajn
pramit)
was developed in stras of enormous
length, in which the moral enthusiasm characteristic of Buddhism is maintained
with singular earnestness through vast wastes of arid discussion. It produced
a reaction in the direction of idealism. The denial of outward differences
led to the assertion of their unity in an abiding substance, which alone
could render the successions of change intelligible; until, finally, the
distinction between the conditioned mind and the ultimate ground of all
thinking issued in the declaration that 'every phenomenon is the manifestation
of mind' (Surangama Samdhi Stra,
trans. into Chinese by Kumrajva,
A.D. 384-417; see Beal, Catena, 303, cf. Sarva-Darsana-Samgraha,
by Mdhava Achrya
[floruit 1331], trans. Cowell and Gough).

While the disciples of both the great schools of Buddhism lived and
worked side by side (see Hiouen Tsang's account of the university of Nlanda),
an immense diversity of opinion prevailed around them. A long catena of
witnesses might be cited, such as the Buddhist poem of the Lalita Vistara,
the Harsha Clarita of Bna
in the 7th century A.D., the treatise on India by the Mohammedan traveller
Albrn
in the 11th century A.D., or the conspectus of philosophical systems (Sarva-Darçana-Sangraha)
by Mdhava Achrya
in the 14th. The last-named work enumerates altogether sixteen schools,
including (besides Buddhists and Jains) the Materialists who denied the
existence of soul or God, and rejected the whole theory of karma
and transmigration. These were known under various designations, and in
the 14th century A.D. their ideas were fathered on a mythical ogre in the
Mahbhrata,
named Chrvka
(on the designation lokyata see
Rhys Davids, Dialogues, i. 166-72). Denying transmigration, they
rejected the entire claims of the Brahmans. Matter was the only reality,
and sense-perception the only form of knowledge. The pedigree of their
textbook was traced back ironically (Macdonell) to Brihaspati, preceptor
of the gods, and bitter verses survive, declaring 'There is no heaven,
no final liberation, nor any soul in any other world.'

Out of this medley six schools finally acquired recognition as orthodox,
or capable of some kind of reconciliation with the authority of the Veda.
The modes of thought which they represent are doubtless of great antiquity
(Max Müller supposes them to have been formed substantially between
the 6th and 3rd centuries B.C.), but in the process through which they
have descended to the present age they are embodied in certain stras,
or collections of aphorisms, which sum up their principles in the briefest
and most concentrated statements. These stras
are ascribed to different authors, concerning whom, however, little or
nothing is known; and the problems of their date and origin are often in
the highest degree intricate and obscure. All the Six Systems -- even those
originally atheistic (or at least non-theistic) in character -- are founded
on the doctrine of karma, and may be said to have the general object
of showing a way out of a world which was regarded as full of suffering.
In each there is a necessary contrast between ignorance and knowledge;
and all lay stress at the outset on the pramnas,
the sources and authorities of knowledge. The Materialists admitted but
one -- sensuous perception; elsewhere inference was added; and the number
might be further increased by comparison, presumption, and trustworthy
testimony, including revelation.

1 and 2. In the line of Vedic tradition stood the Mmms,
'investigation' or 'inquiry.' The field of inquiry was the meaning of the
sacred texts; and it fell into two parts, one prior (prva),
and one posterior (uttara). These terms do not imply a time-order,
though the subject-matter of the Prva-Mmms
must have originated at a very early period (Thibaut). The distinction
refers on the one hand to the sphere of sacrificial action displayed in
the Brhmanas, and on the other to
the sphere of the knowledge of Brahman exhibited in the 'forest-treatises'
attached to the Brhmanas and the
Upanishads.

(1) The stras of the Prva-Mmms
are concerned with the knowledge of Dharma or religious duty, conceived
chiefly from the ritual side. They are attributed to Jaimini, but there
is no clue to his place or date. Their main philosophical interest centres
(firstly) in the arguments for the uncreated character of the Veda and
its existence from all eternity, involving the doctrine of the eternity
of sound, and the further view that the connection of a word and its sense
is not the result of a convention, but is eternal also, inhering in the
word intrinsically, and (secondly) in the discussion of the rewards of
duty. In the sequence of duty and reward, did the works produce their fruit
directly, without superhuman interference, or were they required directly
or indirectly by the Lord (Max Müller)? The Prva-Mmms
taught the first view, and was thus exposed to the charge of atheism.

(2) By far the most important of all the schools (in continuity to the
present day) is the other branch of the Mmms,
commonly known as the Vedânta (or 'Veda-end,' in the sense
of the conclusion of the Veda in the Upanishads, or of the aim or highest
object of the Veda). This is founded on the speculations of the earlier
Upanishads concerning the identity of the Self (tman)
and the Brahman. Its literary form is ascribed to Bdaryana,
of whom, however, nothing is known. The stras
bearing his name (in 555 short paragraphs) appear to have been open to
divergent interpretations, two of which have been preserved in commentaries
of the highest rank, one bearing the name of Çankara, A.D. 788-820,
the other of Rmnuja,
who flourished about A.D. 1127. (For a discussion of the question which
most nearly represents the meaning of the stras
on which they are based, see Thibaut's Introd. to his translation of the
Vedânta Stras, (S.
B.
E.,
xxxiv.) The main problem of the Vedânta was to explain the relation
of the soul and the world, as known in our common experience, to the supreme
Brahman. In its highest form the Brahman is conceived by Çankara
as absolutely homogeneous, pure intelligence or thought, eternal, infinite,
indivisible. How then can we account for the appearance of the phenomenal
world, with its successions of change, and its plurality of souls? This
appearance is, in fact, due to an illusion (my),
the result of our ignorance (avidy).
But this ignorance is something more than an individual disability. It
is the product of ages, affecting all classes of beings, and has a general
cosmic significance. Its origin remains obscure, but in virtue of its universal
character My
may be regarded as the material cause of the world. This world is perpetually
in process of being emitted, maintained, and reabsorbed, by the central
energy of the Brahman, who, in this lower view, may be regarded as Içvara,
or God. Moreover, as 'dreams are true while they last' (Tennyson),
Çankara allows that 'the entire complex of phenomenal existence
is considered as true so long as the knowledge of the Brahman and the Self
of all has not arisen, just as the phantoms of a dream are considered to
be true until the sleeper wakes.' The highest knowledge discloses the real
truth that there is no difference between the Self within and the supreme
Self; the influence of My
is done away; the believer obtains final release from transmigration, and
with death the illusion of individuality is at an end for ever. In this
consummation the ethical life, which is an indispensable condition of the
higher knowledge, disappears. This is the extremest form of the principle
of advaita, non-duality or monism. Rmnuja,
who belonged to the Bhgavatas, a
sect of popular monotheism, also affirmed the existence of Brahman as one
all-embracing being. But he rejected the distinction between the higher
and the lower knowledge, corresponding to the ultimate homogeneous being
and the illusory form of Içvara in the world of our experience.
For him there was but one Brahman, comprising within himself elements of
plurality which shared in his reality. The matter and souls of the universe,
which we know, are a kind of body which Brahman everywhere pervades and
rules. They are modes of his existence, effects of his energy, passing
into different conditions as the world is evolved, sustained, and then
again destroyed, but never entirely resolved back into Brahman. The performance
of works will not lead the soul beyond the samsra;
by the way of knowledge, with the aid of grace, the disciple ascends to
the realm of Brahman, and remains there in separate personal existence
for ever. This form of advaita is known as viçishta
or 'qualified'; the unity of Brahman is of such a nature that it manifests
itself truly in the diversity of matter and spirit.

3. Over against the monism of the Vedânta stands the dualism of
the Snkhya ('connected with
number,' perhaps originally a nickname of its adherents, 'those numerationists':
so Garbe). Its stras bear the name
of Kapila; but he, too, is an unknown personality; and the actual date
of the texts in their existing form is not earlier than about A.D. 1380.
Yet the elements of the system may be traced with much probability among
the beliefs which early Buddhism denounced; while the oldest literary work
of the school, the Snkhyakrikof
Içvara-Krishna, having been translated into Chinese between A.D.
557 and 583, cannot be later than the 6th century. The main doctrine is
the absolute distinction between matter and spirit. On the one hand is
Prakriti,
the primaeval stuff out of which the universe is produced in endless successions
of evolution and destruction; on the other a boundless number of Purushas,
or souls. Eight forms of Prakriti with sixteen modifications, together
with Purusha, make up twenty-five Tattvas ('thatnesses' or principles),
in the complete knowledge of which lies the way to final emancipation from
rebirth. The union of soul and matter produces pain, for all conscious
life is suffering (see the Four Truths, evidently modelled on the Buddhist
summary, quoted by Garbe, Die Smkhya-Philosophie,
195, from the Snkhya-pravachana-bhshya,
founded probably on very ancient tradition); and the object of philosophy
is the liberation of the Purusha. The original Prakriti is not regarded
as homogeneous; it consists of three constituent principles (gunas)
in equipoise, commonly designated goodness, passion, and darkness. A kind
of unconscious impulse (derived from the karma accumulated in a
previous world-system) in due time disturbs the balance, and leads to the
production of a new universe. The undeveloped (avyakta) potential
matter is first 'illuminated and intellectualized' by the development of
a kind of cosmic Buddhi or intelligence. This in its turn generates
Ahamkra
(literally 'I-making'), which involves the consciousness of subject and
object, and so on through the elements of the subtle body with its internal
organs which passes from life to life in the smsara,
until finally the process ends in the coarser materials forming the world
of our experience. Thus in any given individual the whole of the psychic
life is regarded as the result of a material evolution, and is independent
of the Purusha. The Purusha (whether infinitely little, or infinitely great)
is pure spirit, absolute thought; but it is without attributes or qualities,
it is unmoved by joy, pain, or other affections (which in any given individual
are the products of its organization); it is solely engaged (while the
Prakriti is undeveloped) in the 'knowledge of nothing' (Roer). By an obscure
tendency to non-distinction (aviveka), the Purusha becomes united
to a given set of psychic organs, with the result that it fills them with
light, and the self-existent soul becomes an empiric jva
or personal life. It has thus the function of bringing the temporary condition
of the inner organs into consciousness, but it has no will and cannot act,
the entire volitional energies being derived from the material side of
any particular existence. As all consciousness involves pain, the object
of the truly wise is to liberate the Purusha from union with the material
substrata which will then disappear, and enable it to return to its changeless
independence. This is effected by the knowledge of 'distinction,' the eternal
difference between spirit and matter (even in its most attenuated forms).
For one thus emancipated, transmigration ceases, and at death the Purusha
returns into that timeless unconsciousness of which dreamless sleep and
swoon are the faint types on earth. The Snkhya
philosophy thus dispenses with any central unity; it needs no God (Içvara),
and is consequently designated an atheistic doctrine (nirçvara-vda).

4. Connected with this is the Yoga of Patanjali, who is often
identified with the famous grammarian of that name (about 140-120 B.C.),
though this is doubted by others. As the stras
do not contain any polemical references to other systems, it is sometimes
supposed that they were the earliest to take literary form. The Mahbhrata
declares him wise who 'sees that the Snkhya
and the Yoga are one.' The Yoga theories of knowledge, cosmology, physiology
and psychology, are essentially those of the Snkhya,
and the goal of final deliverance is conceived originally in the same manner
(Garbe). The Yoga is in truth a system of practical disciplines for effecting
the ultimate release of the Purusha from entangling bondage in matter.
The term yoga itself ('yoking' or 'joining') has sometimes been
interpreted as 'union,' viz. of the soul with God. But in the original
stras on which the school is founded
this is nowhere presented as the supreme end; and yoga is generally
expounded by the best native and European scholars as 'effort,' 'exertion,'
'concentration.' It is in this sense that it is defined in the first aphorism
as the 'supression of the functions of the thinking-principle (chitta).'
The Yoga (like the Snkhya) assumes
the existence of countless individual souls. In the evolution of the undeveloped
Prakriti, the Snkhya buddhi
is represented by chitta, which, while intrinsically material and
unconscious, becomes conscious through association with the Purusha. But,
as in the Snkhyan scheme, the Purusha
is purely passive, and only serves as an illuminator of the processes carried
on by the inner organs, which are themselves the products of a quasi-mechanical
development. The purpose of the Yoga is the attainment of the knowledge
which will break the bonds entangling the Purusha in the world of sense.
It expounds the obstacles (such as causes of distraction, disease, languor,
doubt, carelessness, &c.) which must be surmounted by concentration,
cheerfulness, benevolence, compassion, and other modes of mental and moral
energy. It lays stress on suitable practices of meditation, prescribes
the regulation of the breath and appropriate postures (capable of being
carried to terrible ascetic extremes), enumerates various occult powers
which will be gained upon the way, and lays out seven stages marking the
final realization of the liberating knowledge. In perfect emancipation
(kaivalya) the Purusha is free alike from the works and sufferings
of self-consciousness, and abides eternally in undisturbed repose. On to
this system was grafted a partial theism (derived perhaps from the Bhgavatas),
by which one Purusha was recognized as 'untouched by afflictions, works,
deserts, and desires.' To this Purusha, which was not entangled in the
cosmic process, the name Içvara was given (so that the Yoga became
a sa-Içvara or seçvara-vda).
By this means Patanjali's scheme escaped the reproach of atheism; but the
divine Purusha was only differenced from the rest by remaining apart, outside
of time, while the remainder were involved in the successions of change.
Devotion to him might aid the progress of the believer who 'made over all
his actions to him'; but he had no part in the world of our experience,
nor had the victorious disciple any necessary relation to him. Mitra, therefore,
seems right in affirming that the theistic doctrine was in no way homogeneous
or consistent with the Snkhyan elements
with which it was associated.

5 and 6. Two other systems appear in close alliance, the Vaiçeshika
or 'philosophy of discrimination,' and the Nyya
or system of reasoning or 'logic.' They possess much common matter, both
in terminology and doctrine. They start from the same four sources of knowledge
(pramnas), sensuous perception,
inference, comparison, and 'word' in the sense of trustworthy testimony,
including a guarded recognition of revelation in the Veda. They have a
similar psychology and metaphysic, and they propose to the student the
same goal in the liberation of the soul from the pain consequent on rebirth.
They doubtless represent philosophical inquiries starting at an early date,
and seem to be branches of a common endeavour to arrange all knowable things
under certain heads, and lay down methods of acquiring knowledge. Of their
reputed founders, Kanda (or Kanabhuj,
'atom-eater') and Gotama, nothing is known; their stras
appear to have been studied by the Jains in the 6th century A.D., but they
are probably of much greater antiquity (Garbe thinks the Vaiçeshika
the older). The aim of the Vaiçeshika is deliverance from
the suffering of transmigration, which is to be attained by perception
of the real nature of the soul. This depends on a knowledge of the truth
summed up in the six Categories. Such knowledge in its turn is to be acquired
by dharma or 'duty,' conceived as forbearance from works in themselves
evil, or from others undertaken with a view to winning transitory fruits
of happiness. This philosophical interest of the system lies in its attempt
to include the objects of knowledge in six
Padârthas ('word-things'),
substance, quality, action, genus or community (what constitutes a genus),
species or particularity (what constitutes an individual), and co-inherence
or inseparability. To this some added 'not-being' or negation, and yet
others, power or energy and resemblance. Under substance were enumerated
the four elements -- earth, water, light, and air -- together with ether,
time, space, soul, and manas (mind), the inner organ through which
the soul acquired knowledge of the external world. The four elements were
all constituted out of atoms, eternal and unalterable, in various combinations;
and not only was the soul eternal, but (contrary to the Snkhyan
psychology) the manas also was regarded as an atom and eternal.
Any given world-system was formed by the adrishta, the 'unseen,'
the effects of karma in a previous world. Içvara is not named
in Kanda's stras,
though some commentators find it implied in stra
3.

6. The Nyya (lit. 'going
back,' reference, and then logical argument, syllogism) likewise offers
a scheme of saving knowledge. Final beatitude arises from proper comprehension
of the truth, as summarized in the sixteen Padârthas. Only
its lower form, however, is attainable in this life, where the fruits of
past action may still affect the body, though they can no longer disturb
the indifference of the soul. The higher, with its complete deliverance
from the liability to pain consequent on rebirth, can be reached only through
death. This is the usual opening in connection with the recognized orthodox
theory. The real stress of the system lies in its analysis of the methods
of thinking. This is effected in discussing the second pramna,
'inference' (the four pramnas
constitute the first and the seventh padârtha, 'premises').
Under the latter head the structure of the syllogism is expounded. This
is arranged in five members (the terminology varies in the later Vaiçeshika
schools), including (1) The Proposition or Assertion, 'this hill is fiery';
(2) The Reason, 'for it smokes'; (3) The Instance (of the general rule),
'what smokes is fiery, as a kitchen hearth'; (4) The Application, 'accordingly,
the hill is smoking' (5) The Conclusion, 'therefore it is fiery.' The 'general
rule' or 'universal proposition' is to be tested by affirmative and negative
induction, which may be based on similar instances, or dissimilar, as in
the following arguments against the Mmmsan
doctrine of the eternity of sound: '(1) Sound is non-eternal; (2) Because
it is produced; (3) Whatever is produced is non-eternal, as pots, &c.;
(4) Sound is thus produced; (5) Therefore it is non-eternal: or (1) Sound
is non-eternal; (2) Because it is produced; (3) Whatever is unproduced
is eternal, as soul, &c.; (4) But sound is not thus unproduced; (5)
Therefore it is non-eternal' (quoted by Cowell in Colebrooke's Essays,
i. 315). Other topics are also discussed, such as the reductio ad absurdum,
and various forms of fallacy and wrong argumentation. Some of these are
included among the sixteen padârthas, which are not arranged
(as in the Vaiçeshika) to include all objects of knowledge. These
are expounded under the sub-heading prameya (what is measurable,
and so ascertainable or demonstrable), constituting the second padârtha
(the
four pramnas being the first).
Here are ranged the Self or Soul, body, the senses, understanding (buddhi),
mind (manas), the inner organ which transforms sensations into perceptions,
will, and all that concerns transmigration, up to final beatitude. The
soul is infinite and eternal, and among their boundless plurality the later
Nyya exalted a Supreme Soul (Paramâtman)
as the seat of eternal knowledge, who created and maintained the universe
('the earth must have had a maker, because it is an effect like a jar';
'the world depends upon some being who wills to hinder it from falling':
see the Kusumnjali of Udayanâchrya,
about 1200 A.D., tr. Cowell, 1864).

Various forms of eclecticism are represented by the Svetâsvatara
Upanishad, the famous Bhagavad-Gt,
and other works (see the Sarva-Darçana-Sangraha) connected
with the cults of Vishnu and Çiva. But these did not acquire permanent
recognition. At the present day various influences have produced a revival
of Vedântism, which is being actively promoted by Swmi
Vivekânanda and others, and is represented by a monthly organ entitled
the Brahmavdin.

Literature: Texts of the Six Systems with translations printed
for the use of the Benares College by Ballantyne (1850-53); FITZEDWARD
HALL, Contrib. towards an Index to the Bibliog. of the Indian Philos. Syst.
(Calcutta, 1851); Sarva-Darsana-Samgraha of Mdhava
Achrya (trans. COWELL and GOUGH,
2nd ed., 1894); COLEBROOKE'S Essays (ed. Cowell, I. vii-xi; MONIER-WILLIAMS,
Indian Wisdom, iii-vii; GARBE. Philos. of Ancient India (1897); MAX MÜLLER,
Six Syst. of Indian Philos. (1899); MACDONELL, Sansk. Lit., xv (1900),
the last-named containing a list of the latest works of Germany and India,
p. 451.

V. China. The state-religion of China is founded on traditions
of high antiquity, embodied in the five classical books: (1) The Yi
King, or 'book of Changes' or 'Transformations'; (2) The Shu King,
a collection of quasi-historical memorials down to the reign of Hsiang
(651-619 B.C.); (3) The Shih King, a collection of upwards of 300
odes, down to the reign of Ting, 606-586 B.C., which Confucius is supposed
to have re-arranged; (4) The ChunTsew, a chronicle of the
kingdom of Lu, 721-480 B.C., ascribed to Confucius; (5) The Li Ki,
or 'book of Rites,' dating in its present form only from about the commencement
of our era, but containing much older materials. The religion here delineated
is a kind of ethicized animism, regulated by the two chief conceptions
Heaven and Earth. Besides the spirits of the dead, vast numbers of spirits
of the dead, vast numbers of spirits are groups under the two great living
powers which sum up the world. To the lower belong the spirits of the regions,
lakes, rivers, mountains, grains, &c.; while in the upper realm are
the spirits of the winds, clouds, rain, thunder, and the like. Some traces
exist of a view of heaven and earth as the father and mother of all things;
and in the Yi King many scholars have found the symbols of cosmogonic
speculations concerning the production of all things from the male (heaven)
and female (earth) principles Yang and Yin (also identified with the 'bright'
and the 'dark'), but this is rejected by Legge (S.E.B.,
xvi. 43), who points out that these terms occur in an appendix, and further
ascribes to them another interpretation. At the head of all is the animated
sky, Tien (or Chien), the actual expanse of heaven conceived as living
(cf. the significant answer to modern objections reported by Edkins, Religion
in China, 1884, 95). Vastness and unity are its attributes, its written
character being compounded of the symbols for 'great' and 'one.' Heaven
and Earth, as the parents of all creatures, act in harmony, with a steadfast
energy. This 'order' is their decree or rule, and it is especially seen
in the procedure of the sun and moon, the vicissitudes of the seasons,
and (more generally) the regular course of nature. Power and action lie
with Tien, which maintains harmony in the universe, and founds upon it
the moral order of society. The 'sincerity' of Tien is the basis of all
right action; it is without respect of persons, and its impartiality supplies
the type of all just rule. The moral attributes of Tien seem occasionally
to transcend the conception of the living sky, which is personalized under
the title Shang Ti, 'supreme ruler.' Applied in the states to the
emperor, this name becomes, in relation to the universe, equivalent to
God. His relation to Tien is not defined in the texts -- the Odes use now
one term, now another -- but the Li Ki describes Shang Ti as 'dwelling
in the great heaven'; and a whole series of commentators and philosophers
afterwards asserted over and over again that Ti is present in the sky (or
in the world) as the mind is in the body: 'Heaven and Earth are one material
creation, just as the various bones make up the body of a man. Shang Ti
is the lord and governor of heaven, and it is not possible that there should
be two lords and governors' (cf. Legge, Notions of the Chinese concerning
God, Hong Kong, 1852).

This conception of the order of nature as the root of personal and social
morality is prominent in the teaching of two of the most famous Chinese
sages, Confucius, and his elder contemporary Lao Tsze. Confucius (as the
early Jesuit missionaries Latinized his native name) was born in 551 B.C.,
in the modern province of Shan-tung. Zealous as a student, he acquired
administrative experience as keeper of grain-stores and superintendent
of public lands, and also began teaching about 530. The empire was in a
state of political confusion, owing to the weakness of the central power
and its inability to control the dependent principalities, and Confucius
suffered from the jealousy of ministers of other states. For a considerable
period (515-501) he devoted himself to literary work and to teaching, but
he accepted office in his native state of Lu in 500, and finally became
minister of crime. Brigandage was suppressed, the fortresses of the great
families dismantled, and morals generally reformed. After a short time,
however, the prince of an adjoining state succeeded in alienating the confidence
of the prince of Lu from his minister, and Confucius went forth as an exile,
wandering for thirteen years (496-483), accompanied by a little band of
disciples, often in want and danger, but sustained by the conviction that
'Heaven would not let the cause of truth perish.' His last years were saddened
by the deaths of his wife, his only son, and two of his favourite disciples:
he himself died in 478 B.C. Confucius accepted the general principles of
doctrine and ritual set forth in the Kings; but he used the title
Shang Ti only with reserve, and tended to revert to the conception of Heaven
as the source of power and symbol of order rather than as a personal being.
He dwelt on the ceaselessness and simplicity of the productive energies
of Heaven and Earth, and on their freedom from any private interests. He
interpreted their silent order as a real revelation of Heaven, and affirmed
that Heaven's decrees (ming) were to be gathered out of the events
of life. The stress of the Confucian teaching fell on a kind of ethical
naturalism, based on the principle of order displayed in the regularity
of the world, and reflected in the constitution of man and the proper harmony
of society. (1) Personally, man is born for uprighteousness; his nature
is a gift from Heaven, every faculty and relationship having its proper
law annexed; virtue consists in being true to this nature. Thus, the aim
of the mind is truth, and of the character righteousness; virtue, therefore,
needs no sanctions to enforce it, but is to be pursued for its own sake.
Practically, however, human nature varies in its knowledge of duty, and
its ability to fulfil it. Careful self-culture is therefore needed; special
stress being laid on the control of thought and rectification of the heart.
This alone secures full development of the individual nature (based on
knowledge and virtue), which is thus enabled to provide for the proper
development of other natures (animals, &c.), until the perfect man
steps in to assist the transforming and nourishing powers of Heaven and
Earth, and forms a 'ternion' with them. Thus man is brought into union
with the forces outside him, which he learns to apply in accordance with
their laws; and when the forces within him act in harmony, perfect order
prevails (see the Chung Yung). (2) Man is further related to other
men, and in the social state (whether tribe or empire) the true unit is
the family. Here he enters into five relations (sovereign and minister,
husband and wife, father and son, &c.), the duties of which must be
performed with the three virtues of knowledge, magnanimity, and energy.
The requirements of duty in these relations are made known by the principles
of the 'not-I,' 'reciprocity,' and the 'measuring square' (Analects,
V, xi, XV. xxiii; Ta Hio, x; Chung Yung, xiii), 'what you
do not want done to yourself, do not to others.' This rule is stated by
Confucius in a negative form, but many of his precepts show that its positive
significance was also familiar to him. The political philosophy of Confucius
did not get beyond the conception of the state as a vast family. The sixth
of the nine standard rules prescribed for the emperor required him to deal
with the mass of the people as a father with children. The administrative
hierarchy must imitate his example; and then the people themselves would
follow it. Filial piety has ever since remained a prominent feature in
the Chinese ideal; and when Buddhism established its monasteries in the
midst of the followers of Confucius, it was again and again bitterly denounced
for the disturbance which it introduced into family relations.

The practical ethics of Confucius did not pass unchallenged into the
position of eminence which his teaching subsequently acquired. His doctrine
was assailed from opposite sides by Yang Chu and Mih Teih (or Mi Tsze).
The first-named paraded pleasure as the only good, conceived in the coarsest
forms of sensual gratification. He contrasted the careers of the typical
sages and the typical villains of antiquity; the laborious years passed
by the former were in no way compensated by a posthumous fame which they
could not feel; while the evil repute of folly or tyranny did no harm to
the latter, who had enjoyed themselves recklessly at the expense of others.
The satisfaction of desire, therefore, was the sole end of life, and in
the disorders of contemporary society the strong who preyed upon the weak
were justified. To Mih Teih this conclusion was unendurable. Why did thieves
steal, and great officers throw each other's families into confusion, and
one state make war upon another? There was one cause for all -- the want
of mutual love. If fathers and sons, rulers and ministers, were kind and
filial, distress and confusion would disappear. Reciprocal affection is
the guarantee of order, while the root of trouble lies in aversion and
mistrust. The remedy for social ills therefore was obvious: 'it is needful,'
said Mih Teih, 'to awaken in the heart the love of men.' From these two
antagonistic principles, known as 'each for himself,' and 'loving all equally,'
or 'universal love,' ethical speculation was recalled by Meng Tsze ('the
philosopher Meng,' whose name was latinized as Mencius), 372-289 B.C.,
into the more sober ways of Confucian morality. Mencius affirmed, like
his predecessor, that the tendencies of man's nature are towards righteousness;
but he distinguished a number of various impulses to action which were
not all of equal rank, some being stamped with the nobility of heaven,
and others rooted in the 'passion-nature' which pervades the physical organism.
This 'passion-nature' it was the business of the will to subdue, so as
to secure a due control. The general resemblance between the moral philosophy
of Mencius and that of Butler has been pointed out by Legge; the Chinese
sage, however, devoted more attention to elementary politics and the conditions
of social well-being, asserting that 'the people are the most important
element in the country; . . . and the ruler is the lightest.' From the
time of Mencius the influence of the Confucian teaching steadily grew.
The attempt of She Hwang-ti in 213 B.C. to destroy the ancient literary
records was baffled by the devotion of the literati; and, under
the Han dynasty which followed, the study of the text was pursued with
extraordinary assiduity. On the introduction of the system of competitive
examination, in A.D. 631, the nine Confucian classics were made the sole
subjects of the new test for the public service, and they remain so to
this day.

Beside the ancient state-religion of China stands the cult which European
scholars designate Taoism. In its modern form, degraded by alliance with
divination and magic, it has little connection with the profound conception
from which it takes its name. The Tao was the watchword of an elder
contemporary of Confucius, Lao Tsze ('the old philosopher'), whose birth
is commonly placed about 604 B.C. The records of him are of the scantiest,
and the authenticity of the little book of aphorisms known as the Tao
Teh King, still defended by Legge, must be regarded as doubtful (Giles),
though it contains many genuine sayings; but enough traces survive in Chinese
literature, and especially in the writings of his disciple Chwang Tsze
(contemporary with Mencius, about 300 B.C.), to indicate the presence of
a powerful mind, whose thoughts have rather the character of philosophical
intuitions than of reasoned and methodical system. The term round which
his doctrine gathers, the Tao, was not new in Chinese usage. Its
common meaning was 'way,' path, road, or course. The 'great Tao' was the
high-road, contrasted with side lanes. It was applied figuratively in the
older literature to the course of nature, and also to the path of right
conduct. The Tao of heaven denoted the sum of the actions and energies
of the all-embracing sky; the Tao of the earth expressed the totality of
the potencies and operations of the ground. Heaven and earth, however,
could be named and described; the objects they contain could be classified;
they could not -- in their visible order -- be the ultimate reality. Therefore
the Tao that can be trodden is not the enduring and unchanging Tao; the
originator of heaven and earth is beyond our apprehension, and consequently
'nameless'; but it works silently, fulfilling its own law, everywhere uniform
and constant, producing, nourishing, maturing everything. It cannot be
called conscious or unconscious, for it includes both; nor personal or
impersonal, for it transcends both; in it are contraries reconciled, and
the beam and the pillar (the horizontal and the perpendicular) are identical.
The Tao is thus a kind of natura naturans; but with the practical
aim which was never far distant from a Chinese thinker the Tao becomes
at once a moral type. Heaven and earth do not interfere with the things
they have begotten; they give each object opportunity to fulfil itself,
and remain silent, acting yet not seeming to act. Man also must follow
the Tao. In nature is unity, harmony, repose; the wise man must have no
personal ends, he must avoid self-display, and cultivate humility. In the
hands of Chwang Tsze this principle approaches very closely to a philosophy
of the unconscious, as in the parable of the sword-maker who, by constant
practice, came to be able to do the work without any thought of what he
was doing, or in the question of Lao Tsze to a would-be disciple, 'Can
you become as a little child?' In one of the imaginary colloquies in which
Chwang Tsze expounds his master's teaching, Confucius is represented as
summing up the Classics in two words, 'Benevolence and righteousness.'
'What do you mean by them?' asks the elder sage. 'To be in one's inmost
heart is kindly sympathy with all things' to love all men; and to allow
no selfish thoughts.' But Lao Tsze objects, 'To be seeking to allow no
selfish thoughts -- that is selfishness' ('your elimination of self is
a positive manifestation of self,' Giles), and he points to heaven and
earth, which unfailingly pursue their course of impartial good will. Finally,
government must be conducted, according to the Tao, without boastful display.
A great burst of reforming zeal, fresh enactments, increased command of
material resources, the spread of luxury, the burdensome taxation which
followed on the ruler's extravagance, were all alike contrary to the Tao.
The ideal was to be found in a little state, which could be governed by
the 'quiet and unexciting method of non-action': but this involved keeping
the people without knowledge or desire, for it is 'garrulity of speech
which puts the world in disorder.' When, however, an emperor inquired,
'If the empire is not be governed, how are men's hearts to be kept in order?'
Lao Tsze bade him 'be careful not to interfere with the natural goodness
of the heart of man.' 'The empire is a divine trust, and may not be ruled.
He who rules, ruins. He who holds by force, loses.' 'Mighty is he who conquers
himself.' 'To the good I would be good, to the not-good I would also be
good in order to make them good.' 'Use the light that is in you to revert
to your natural clearness of sight.' The best government, therefore, rests
on a philosophical quietism, conserves existing institutions, and administers
them on the principle of non-interference.

The attempts of different scholars to connect Lao Tsze's ontological
speculations with Indian thought (e.g. Douglas, 1880, in contradiction
to his former opinion, 1879; de Harlez, 1891) do not seem successful. But
the introduction of Buddhism in the first century A.D. opened the way for
an infusion of Hindu metaphysics (see ante, p. 233). Enormous labour
was bestowed on the translation of Sanskrit works; and this in due time
produced a revival of ancient cosmogonic and other speculations based on
the texts. Thus in the 11th century Chow Tsze (1017-73) wrote a treatise
on the 'Diagram of the Great Origin,' a secret doctrine supposed to be
implied in the Yi King; and a hundred years after Chu Hi (1130-1200),
who had devoted himself to the study of Buddhism and Taoism, reverted to
the classical texts under the influence of his predecessor, and expounded
a monistic philosophy on the basis of the 'Great Origin.' Of these works
Mayer says, 'His commentaries on the classical writings have formed for
centuries the recognized standard of orthodoxy, but within the last hundred
and fifty years critics have arisen who have vigorously impugned the doctrines
of his school.'

On Philosophy in Japan cf. a paper by TETSUJIRO INOUYÉ, of Tokio,
at the Congress of Orientalists (Paris, 1897), and published in the Japanese
magazine Hansei Zasshi. A curious glimpse into the subjective idealism
of the Buddhist sect founded by Nichiren (born in 1222 A.D.) is afforded
by the essay of Abbot KOBAYASHI NITTO, The Doctrines of Nichiren (Tokyo,
1893): 'All phenomena, mental and material, in all times and spaces, are
to be conceived of as existing subjectively in the consciousness of every
individual, as his own physical and mental states, and thus only' (p. 8).
(J.E.C.)

[1] In the spelling of proper names and technical
terms, the diacritical marks usually employed by scholars are here abandoned,
and foreign words are represented in the English alphabet.

[2] The term spenta has the meaning at once
of beneficence and holiness.

[3] Variously interpreted as life and death, reality
(i.e. all good and perfect things) and unreality (the delusive and vain),
&c.